


Need A Bigger Boat

by anysin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Hand Jobs, M/M, Memory Alteration, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-30 01:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: Stan and Ford have an altercation on the boat, leading to a memory loss. Dark Stancest.





	1. Chapter 1

“Stanley, you know you can’t get away from me. Just come out.”

Stan knows he doesn’t stand a chance. He’s in the bathroom, the most obvious hiding place that there is; if Ford hasn’t figured out where he is yet, he either expects Stan to be smarter than he is or then he’s just playing around. Stan doesn’t know which is worse. He doesn’t know anything anymore.

A palm slaps up against the bathroom door, light but loud. The door is locked, but it’s not going to hold Ford back for long; Stan goes to the cabinet, opens it to dig out razor blades, his still preferred method of shaving. He doesn’t want to hurt Ford, but obviously he’s starting to run out of choices.

He runs out of them faster than he expects to, when the door is kicked open and the room fills with blue light.

*

“Stanley, are you all right?”

Stan blinks as Ford helps him sit up on the bathroom floor. “I guess I-” He pauses when he realizes he has something sharp in his hand and it’s fucking cutting him. “Oh hell!”

“Looks like you were trying to shave, Stan.” Ford’s arm slides around Stan as he starts to pull Stan up on his feet. “Let’s go get you fixed.”

When Ford leads him out of the bathroom, Stan is puzzled to see that the whole boat is dark, and the kitchen is a mess when Ford takes him there and leaves him sitting by the table. Stan gets up to clean things up a bit while Ford fetches somes stuff from the medicine cabinet, bothered by the big black hole in his mind. Have he and Ford fought? If so, why can’t he remember anything of it?

After Ford returns and starts to clean Stan’s wounds, Stan is feeling a little bit calmer; maybe his memory is just being a Swiss cheese again, it has happened before. Still, when Ford is finished with bandaging Stan’s hand and takes into his own hands, kissing it on the knuckles, a strange shiver runs through Stan.

*

It’s when they get in the bunk together when Stan starts to realize what that shiver was all about.

Ford helps with that when he starts to kiss Stan, hard enough to make their teeth gnash. When Stan tries to pull away, Ford just clasps him from the back of his head and holds him still. He is heavy on top of Stan, his knees nudging between Stan’s legs; when Stan starts squirming against him, Ford grasps his arms to push them down to Stan’s sides, and that’s when it all starts coming to him.

He had found something today. A box.

“You feel so good,” Ford whispers, leaning down to nip at Stan’s neck and collarbones, and this time he is more gentle. Stan could even enjoy it, but he is too busy trying to remember the context for the image that has just risen into his mind. Ford doesn’t care; he takes one of his hands down between their legs and starts to expose both of them, continuing to kiss and suck at Stan’s throat as Stan lies stiff and still beneath him.

The box-

“You had pictures of me,” he says to Ford, stomach tensing up. “Naked pictures.” Of Stan lying on his back, on his stomach, sleeping, wide awake. Gagged, hands cuffed behind his back, limbs splayed, face and chest splattered with come.

“You are beautiful,” Ford says, sliding a hand between Stan’s legs.

“I have _no fucking idea_ when you took them!”

Ford’s hand lands on his face, clutching his nose and mouth shut and cutting off his breath. Stan groans behind the broad hand, his own hands lifting up to claw at Ford’s wrist, trying to pull it off. At the same time he is distracted by the hand moving between his legs, feeling his cock up and kneading his balls through his boxers. To his shame his cock jerks against Ford’s hand, happy to get attention. 

“I do what I have to,” Ford says, fingers tightening on Stan’s face until Stan’s having real trouble breathing, slowly losing stamina and strength. As if the whole situation isn’t twisted enough, his body seems to find lack of air outright intoxicating, his cock growing even harder when Ford stops groping it from the outside of his boxers and moves his hand beneath the garment, his skin wonderfully cool against Stan’s hot flesh. Stan lets himself go slack, hoping that will encourage Ford to let him go, which will give him an opportunity to start fighting again.

Ford doesn’t.

World starts to get blurry in Stan’s eyes.

“I’m not doing this because I hate you, I do it because I love you,” Ford says, squeezing and tugging at Stan’s cock until it’s hurting, until he’s coming, until the world spins in his eyes and becomes wet as his eyes tear up.

*

“Stanley, it’s pointless to run. I will find you.”

Stan’s not sure which one of them is stupider, Stan for hiding in the bathroom or Ford for not realizing that it’s the first place where Stan would go.

The bandage on his hand tells him it’s pointless to try to dig out the razor blades, but he tries anyway.


	2. Restoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford makes things normal again. For a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Direct continuation to the original, Ford POV.

Stan doesn’t get the razor blades out in time, so when Ford enters, he simply shoots Stan to the back of his head with the memory gun, sending him crashing down onto the floor. As Stan starts to come around, Ford helps him up to his feet, leading him away from the bathroom and towards his cabin.

“I don’t get why my memory keeps cutting out on me like this,” Stan says, sounding miserable. “I thought I was done with this crap already.”

“Recovery takes time, Stan.” Once Ford senses that Stan is feeling secure enough on his feet again, he pulls his arm away from around Stan’s waist, lifting his hand up to grasp Stan’s shoulder instead. “We can do memory tests on you if you want to.”

Ford hopes he will say yes; the memory test sessions have turned out to be a good excuse to tie Stan up.

“Nah, I’m sure it will pass,” Stan says, although he doesn’t sound so sure. “I think what I need right now is some sleep.”

It’s disappointing, but Ford nods. It’s probably for the best; this way, Stan will forget for certain, and more naturally.

He strokes the line of Stan’s strong shoulders as they reach the door of his cabin, letting his hand briefly slide up to rest on Stan’s neck. He’s disappointed when Stan doesn’t even react, and when Stan opens the door and steps into his cabin, he doesn’t ask Ford to join him.

*

Later, Ford masturbates to the events of the night in his own cabin. It’s unsatisfactory.

*

Before retiring to his own cabin, Ford had cleaned the mess in the bathroom, but in the morning the lock is still broken and Stan’s razor blades are all gone. Ford takes responsibility for both, saying he got too rough with the lock and threw the razor blades away.

“You have an electric razor now anyway, remember?” It’s a gift from Mabel, one Stan has promised to use. It’s only good that Ford is making him keep his promise.

“Yeah, but-” Stan falls silent, frowning at Ford as he crosses his arms across his chest. Ford can tell his brother isn’t happy about Ford destroying his property, but he also knows the razor blades held no emotional value to Stan and were cheap anyway; it genuinely doesn’t matter what Ford did with them.

Still, it’s good to make amends.

“I’m sorry, Stan. I should have asked you about it.”

“Yeah, you should have.”

Stan is still frowning, but his voice is noticeably softer. Ford knows he is on his way to being forgiven.

*

For three days, Ford pretends he’s a normal brother. On the fourth day, he starts out gentle; he wraps his arm around Stan and gives him a half-hug when Stan is making them breakfast, smiling inside when he catches Stan blushing in secret.

He continues with similar touches for the rest of the day, letting his hands linger here, prolonging a hug there. Stan accepts it all with surprised pleasure, leaning back against every touch.

In the evening, Ford drugs Stan’s tea.

*

“You really are perfect, Stanley Pines.”

Stan groans, possibly in protest, but it’s all right; Ford is here to know better. He has Stanley lying face down on his own bunk, naked, gagged and tied from his wrists and ankles, his thighs shoved as wide apart as they can go with the restrains down below as Ford works two fingers inside him.

“This is how you’re meant to be.” Powerless. Helpless. Afraid. “You just need someone to show you where you belong.” He jabs his fingers deep inside Stan, making his brother’s back curve in a way that is probably painful for him.

“But don’t forget.” He drapes himself over Stan’s bare backside, resting his clothed groin against the curve of Stan’s ass even as he keeps thrusting his fingers in and out of Stan’s tight hole. His own cock is swollen in his pants, the strained length throbbing against Stan’s buttock through the fabric. “This is all out of love.”

Stan groans again; this time, there is no doubt that it’s out of protest, because he thinks Ford is lying.

Ford understands. It’s true.

*

Afterwards, he photographs Stan from all available angles, capturing streaks of tears on his face and the trickle of come running down the back of his thigh. Then, he picks up the memory gun, making sure Stan sees it before aiming the barrel at his temple.

As Stan slumps down on the bed, Ford grabs a towel, cleaning Stan up from the outside before cutting his wrist and ankles loose. Stan is groaning when Ford pulls the zip ties he used to tie Stan up with off his limbs, but he doesn’t stir, continuing to lie down on the mattress as Ford pulls his blankets on him.

He takes the gun and the camera and leaves the cabin, heading to his own. Stan will wake up on his own, wonder about his nudity and the soreness in his ass; Ford knows from experience Stan won’t come to him about it, won’t ask any questions. He’ll keep his worry about his memory loss and strange experiences to himself, hope that Ford doesn’t notice anything.

Ford looks forward to seeing whether Stan will get suspicious about something this time around, too. But for now, he will enjoy the status quo.


End file.
